


all shook up

by sunwhenitsets



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Canon Disabled Character, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Science Boyfriends, Tutoring, hermann is a huge nerd, newt is a huge dork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunwhenitsets/pseuds/sunwhenitsets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>high school!au where hermann is an adorable nerd, newt is his bio tutor, and the teenage angst is plentiful. rated m swearing and eventually mature material.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. wipe out

 

When Hermann Gottlieb’s parents told him they were moving from Germany to the United States, he didn’t question it. Not that he had the opportunity to, in any case. Instead, he limped silently to his room and began to pack his sparse belongings into a large, leather case.

It wasn’t Hermann’s job to question the authority of his parents, and it wasn’t the job of his siblings either. If his father was to be transferred to San Francisco campus of his university, his family was to follow dutifully. Karla and Dietrich would stay in Berlin to complete their degrees at the university, and Hermann and Bastien would follow, along with their mother.

Bastien would attend a private middle school in the area, and Hermann would attend the public high school, where he would be graciously allowed to graduate early.

Contingent towards academic success, of course.

He spent his seventeenth birthday in an airport, his leg wrapped in a metal brace, a copy of Differential Equations and Linear Algebra open in his lap.

And those equations were what flooded his thoughts as the receptionist of Pan Pacific Area High School stared at him curiously. Because if he didn’t think about mathematics, his thoughts would be filled with much more worrisome matters.

“Can I help you?”

“Erm, yes. I’m a new student.”

“Hermann _Gottlee-ebb?_ ”

“Sure.”

The receptionist, a short woman with an explosion of frizzy hair combed into a bun, flipped through a series of folders, selecting one with Hermann’s name scrawled across the top. Hermann took it gingerly, hoisting his bookbag up and tucking it inside.

“It contains your schedule, as well as your locker number and combination. Were you able to get all of your coursework done in time for the start of the second quarter?”

Hermann nearly scoffed. “Yes, I was able to.”

“Wonderful,” she chimed, “now, it’s our policy to have new students receive a tour around the building by one of our student helpers--”

“--oh, that won’t be necessary--”

“--and yours is Miss Mori. Are you done with the filing cabinet, dear?” She called back into the office. There was a shuffling noise, and a small, raven-haired girl in combat boots appeared behind the desk, her hair cut into a boyish bob and tied back with a blue bandana.

“Yes, I am.”

“Please show Hermann to his classes, and make haste. He only has thirty minutes until second hour.”

“Of course. Ready?” She asked. Hermann looked down the long hallway, and sighed.

_As ready as I’ll ever be._

* * *

“And if you go down that hallway, you will find the cafeteria. That is it. Do you need help finding your locker?”

“No, I think I’ll be all right,” he said softly, wincing at the mechanical tick of his brace with each passing step. If Mako noticed, she wasn’t drawing attention to it, for which Hermann was grateful.

“All right,” she said, then paused. “I was new at the beginning of last year. It is scary, is it not?”

Taken aback, Hermann froze. He hadn’t really thought about it. Was he scared? He supposed he should be. New people, new place. But even in Germany he’d had no friends, no real attachment to the place other than it being the only home he’d ever known. And even then, home was stretching it.

“Hermann?” She asked.

He shrugged. “No, not really.”

“Oh,” she said, but she smiled just the same. “Good. You will adjust better.”

“I guess so.”

“You should find your second class, the bell will ring in a few minutes.”

“Okay, and, um, thank you for the tour, Mako.”

“No problem. Goodbye, Hermann.” She smiled again, eyes lingering curiously.

Hermann stiffened. “Right, yeah. Goodbye.”

She giggled softly, giving a small wave as she disappeared down the hall. Hermann looked down at the schedule nervously. What floor was he on? And what even was his second block?

 _Biology._ Wonderful. His least favorite subject, and that included the humanities. He noticed that Mako had, no doubt purposefully, led him to the correct floor, and began scanning the numbers on the sides of the classrooms.

_A12, A13, A14 . . . A15._

He lay his hand on the door handle, just as the aggressive sound of the bell reverberated through the hall. He jolted, and the door swung open, knocking him to the floor and scattering his things from the bookbag.

“ _Oh shit!_ So sorry, dude, I didn’t see you.”

Hermann looked up, as the flood of teenagers swept around him. He could feel color blooming up from his neck at their stares, and resisted the urge to bolt, leaving his things behind.

But the source of the voice had already dropped to his knees, and was scooping his papers into a haphazard pile.

The boy looked up, a scruffy mess of black hair and eyes the color of the sea glinting behind bent glasses.

“You okay?”

Hermann nodded. “Fine,” he said, despite the sharp stabs of pain shooting through his leg.

“That’s great, man. Again, real sorry.” He extended a hand, which Hermann took reluctantly, and pulling him to his feet.

“You’re the new kid right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Sweet!” The boy grinned infectiously as Hermann steadied himself, lips pulled into a tight line.

“You can call me Newt.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to the fifties for the title, and all my chapter names


	2. only the lonely

"How was your first day?" 

Hermann looked down at his brother curiously, the gangly twelve-year old staring back at him with an earnest expression.

"Excuse me?"

"Your first day," Bastien repeated, slicking peanut butter on a piece of wheat toast. "How did it go?" 

"Fine." 

"You always say that." 

"What else am I supposed to say?" Hermann asked gruffly, drinking deeply from a mug of tea. 

"Did anything interesting happen?" 

Hermann's eyes bore into his brother's. "Mother put you up to this, didn't she?" 

" _No,_ " Bastien scowled, looking almost hurt. "I'm just curious. God, Hermann." 

"Why are you curious?" Hermann asked, honestly confused. Bastien stared at him in wonderment. 

"You really don't understand why I'd want to know how you're doing?" 

Hermann paused, his eyes lingering on his younger brother's face, brow furrowed in frustration. He never counted himself as close with his siblings, some even less than others. Dietrich was nearly eight years his senior, and Karla spent most of her time pretending none of them existed. Bastien . . . tried. And Hermann wondered if it was for nothing. 

"I shouldn't be of any concern to you." 

"So? I'm worried about you. You're my  _brother."_ The small bit of emphasis on the final word turned Hermann's stomach uncomfortably.  _  
_

"I'm fine, Bastien. Really."

"Okay." The silence settled awkwardly over them both, as Hermann checked his watch. 

"I've got to catch my bus . . . Goodbye, Bastien." Hermann slung his bookbag over his shoulders, leaving the mug on the counter. 

"Bye." 

* * *

 

"Hermann?" 

Hermann turned nervously, sighing in relief at the sight of the girl from the day before. "Oh, hello Mako."

"Hi." Her bandana was gone, replaced by a scarlet headband. The combat boots remained. Hermann looked down at his own sweater vest and pleated trousers, feeling especially out of place. 

"I guess we have Differential Equations together." 

"We do, yes," Mako agreed, then grinned. "You are in my seat." 

"Oh, apologies." Hermann stood shakily, tucking his binder back into his bookbag and looking around the room for another seat. Mako shook her head. 

"It is a small class. The seat next to mine is open, if you prefer." 

"I do." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He moved his bag over one seat, pulling out his textbook. He grabbed his glasses from a small case, slipping them over the bridge of his nose and turning to the pages. He . . . liked Mako. She seemed kind, and just a little awkward. Like him. But the constant pressure of conversation with a new person was too much for him to bear for the moment. To his solace, the bell rang, and as the rest of the students flooded in a tall, slender woman with a carefully combed shock of blonde hair strode in gracefully. 

"Good morning, students. We'll begin on page two hundred and forty-seven . . . I see we have a new student today. Care to introduce yourself?" 

Hermann wondered for a moment if he had slept through his alarm and was trapped in a horrible nightmare.

"My name is Hermann Gottlieb."

"Anything else to add, dear?" Her face, sharp and chiseled, registered nothing but encouragement. Hermann frowned. 

"No. Nothing." 

"All right then," she said with a smile, "and I am Mrs Kaidanovsky. But let us turn our attention to the Fourier series, shall we?" She turned to the board, and Hermann became suddenly engrossed with the shine of his shoes under the desk. He felt a nudge from Mako, and saw a note lain on his desk. Gingerly, he opened it. 

_Good job._

* * *

Despite the miserable start, Hermann realized Differential Equations would likely end up being his favorite class. Mrs Kaidanovsky was knowledgeable and capable, carrying the class quickly through topics and stopping for clarification. Mako passed him note after note, with the occasional math-related question. But mostly, it was chatter.

_I like your sweater._

_You're very good at this._

_You should join the Math Team._

The last one made him nervous, mostly because it seemed like something that he'd actually enjoy doing. He wrote back that he'd think about it, which satisfied her, until the bell rang. As they stood, she nudged him for the second time. 

"Sit with me at lunch, maybe?" She asked. Hermann nodded. 

"I'll try to find you." 

She smiled. "Okay. See you later, Hermann."

"Goodbye." Hermann reached for his schedule, quickly realizing he didn't need a reminder of where his second hour class was. He winced at the memory, hoping he wouldn't have to see any of those students again. 

Grabbing his things, he stalked to A15, avoiding the glances of passing students and teachers. He paused at the door, wrapping his fingers around the handle hesitantly before opening it. Blessedly, the class was empty, save for a grizzled-looking man with ginger stubble. 

"You must be Mr. Gottlieb," he turned, greeting him warmly. Hermann stiffened. 

"Yes, I am." 

"We're glad to have you. I looked at your transcript, this'll be your first bio class, right?" His accent was distinctly Australian and, combined with the Russian Mrs Kaidanovsky, Hermann began to wonder where these teachers were coming from. 

"Yes, it will be." 

"You'll love it, I'm sure. I'm Mr Hansen." He shook his hand firmly and Hermann relaxed, just slightly. He liked people who took the burden of conversation. 

"Now, my son is in this class as well, so if you have any questions, just ask Chuck." 

"All right, I will." Hermann moved his things to a desk Hansen gestured toward as more students trickled in. The bell rang after a moment, and Hansen moved to the head of the class. 

"Okay guys, let's pick up where we left off yesterday--" 

"--Sorry, I'm late!" The door swung open, and Hermann flinched, the boy from the day before striding in and throwing his backpack on the first available desk. Hansen shook his head, pressing his lips together.

"That's another tardy, Newton."

"I know, sorry, dude." He slouched back in the desk, kicking out his feet. Hermann scowled. 

"Let's try to make sure it doesn't happen again?"

"Sure, man. No problemo."

Hansen sighed in exasperation, moving to the whiteboard and writing a series of page numbers in thick black marker. 

"Read the following pages in your textbook, and complete the guiding questions. Once you're done, we'll have a class discussion. Sound good, guys?" The class nodded in agreement, as Hermann turned his head to the textbook. He liked readings, he liked worksheets. It all seemed simple, straightforward. 

Until he hit the first sentence. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've gotten so much nice feedback so far! thanks so much! as always, comments, kudos, and any feedback at all is lovely and appreciated.


	3. trouble

_"Scheiße."_

Hermann set his pen on the dining room table, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He'd finished his other homework hours ago, but remained chained to his chair despite the early morning hour. The biology textbook stared back tauntingly, and, after a moment of intense deliberation, Hermann slammed it shut in defeat. 

Why did he even  _need_  biology? He was going to be a math major, with a minor in physics. Biology was entirely unnecessary for him to even consider learning.  _  
_

But not for lack of trying.

"You're still up?" 

Hermann whirled around, greeted by a similarly bleary-eyed Bastien, carrying a glass of water. 

"Yes, it's called studying. You'll understand when you get to high school." 

"It's nearly one in the morning, Hermann. You need to sleep."

"I know," he murmured, gathering his things into his bookbag and slinging it over his shoulder. He'd barely taken the first step toward his bedroom when Bastien stopped him again. 

"You can always talk to me if you need to, you know." 

Hermann paused, bringing his eyes from the floor to meet his brother's.

_And what should I tell you? That I hate this country and I hate high school and I hate our parents and I hate biology and I don't know what it feels like to be . . . happy?_

"Good night, Bastien."

* * *

"All right, class, today we're going to be taking our test on photosynthesis. Phones away, and pencils out." 

The class shuffled in compliance, the ginger-haired boy to Hermann's right (one that he had deduced to be Mr. Hansen's son, Chuck) tucking his phone mischievously into his lap. Hermann sighed, turning his head back toward his desk. 

_I can do this._

Hansen walked between the rows, passing out tests from student to student. Hermann's eyes scanned the page once it slid onto his desk, his chest tightening immediately. 

1.) Describe the movement of electrons through the Calvin Cycle. 

Hermann withered into his seat, his breath growing shallow and quick. Were there electrons in the Calvin Cycle? What hadn't he studied? Miserably, he moved from question to question, scrawling vague answers as his chest continued to tighten without relent. His classmates slowly rose one by one to turn in their tests, the first being that  _dreadful_ boy with the glasses and messy hair, as Hermann rushed to finish. Finally, he snatched up the sheet, carrying it to Hansen's desk dejectedly before returning to his own seat. 

"Great work, everyone. I should have these graded by class tomorrow, so we'll be able to go over the answers and move on to our next unit. Now, onto cellular respiration." 

Hermann's eyes stayed glued to his desk, wishing one of Mako's notes would miraculously appear. Instead, he watched as Chuck scrolled freely on his phone and the disheveled boy (what was his name? Lizard?) flipped through his notes in boredom. 

He wanted to go home. But he didn't even know where that was.

"Hermann? Care to join us?" Hansen asked, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Hermann looked around, realizing the entire class's eyes were on him. 

"Yes, sir. Apologies." 

"No worries, son. Just try to pay attention." 

The rest of the class passed by in a blur of chemical reactions and microscopic functions. Hermann struggled to follow along, resisting the urge to pull out his Differential Equations text and begin reading just to pass the time. He wanted to like Mr Hansen. He wanted to understand biology. But it seemed impossible. 

Suddenly, the bell sounded, and the class stood in unison and flocked to the door. Hermann paused, adjusting his brace painfully and beginning to gather his things. 

"Hermann? Could you stay after for a quick minute?" Hermann's throat went dry. 

"Of course, Mr. Hansen," he said, sliding his bookbag over one shoulder and approaching the desk. "What is it?" 

Hansen grabbed the stack of tests, pulling Hermann's from the top of the pile. "I was curious, so I glanced at your test. It's--"

"--dismal, I know, Mr. Hansen." Hansen looked at him for a moment, before setting the test back down on the pile. 

"We have a number of resources for you, Hermann. I wouldn't be so concerned if it weren't for your excellent grades in all your other subjects."

"Biology is . . . not my best class."

"There's an excellent counselor on staff who could work with you."

"I don't need a counselor," Hermann said firmly. Hansen sighed.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd be needing help in this class?" Hermann nearly scoffed. 

"I didn't think it would  _be_ a problem."

"Well, it is. And if you want to pass, you're going to need some help." 

"I don't--" 

_Need it._

But he stayed silent as Hansen continued. 

"If you don't want to work with a counselor, we have other options."

"Such as?" 

"Tutoring," said Hansen, as Hermann swallowed. 

"And I have just the person in mind."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so basically you guys see where this is going.


	4. are you lonesome tonight?

_Maybe he'll be late,_ Hermann thought ruefully, checking his watch for the third time in the last minute. If the boy was late, he'd have the excuse to leave the library and go home. He'd tell Hansen the next day, and everything would be fine. 

"Hey, dude! What's up?" 

Hermann deflated, watching as his tutor approached the table. His entire body seemed to vibrate with energy as he sat, throwing his overflowing backpack on the table and rummaging through it. Hermann stared at him in wonderment, truly overwhelmed by the idea that this  _moron_ was at the top of the class. Was it all some sort of cruel method hazing for new students? Hermann could think of no other possibility.

"You okay, there, Hermann? You're kinda just staring at me."

"Oh, sorry," Hermann said, embarrassed. "I'm fine. And, um, how are you?" 

"Great! So yeah, you ready to get started? Hansen said you were gonna retake the photosynthesis test, so I figured we'd start there."

"That's fine." 

"Did you bring your textbook? I kinda left mine at home. Oops." He laughed, a squeaky chuckle that sounded to Hermann like nails scraping across a chalkboard. 

"Yes, I did." 

"Awesome! All right, I think it's chapter five, I'm not really sure. I don't ever do the readings."

Hermann gaped. "You don't do the readings?" 

Newt laughed again, smiling sheepishly. "I sorta just listen in class to what Hansen says. The readings are mostly for clarification, and I don't really ever need it, I guess." 

Hermann was stunned into silence. He was so hopeless he needed tutoring from someone who _didn't even read the textbook._  Suddenly, horribly ashamed, he gathered his things into his bookbag, ignoring Newt's confused expression as he stood. 

"I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"What?" 

"I said, I have to go."

"Are you serious?"  Newt asked, his amiable expression twisting into one of hurt and, to Hermann's surprise, annoyance.

"It'd be better if I didn't explain. Thank you for your time." Hermann walked as quickly as he could manage, frowning in pain and resisting the urge to look back at Newt's confused expression. He'd barely made it out the door when a hand grabbed onto his shoulder, whirling him around. 

"What the hell, man?" Hermann stepped back.

"What do you mean?"

Newt laughed again, humorlessly. "Don't pretend you don't know, dude. Every time I come into class, or raise my hand to talk, you give me this little glare. Like you're sick of me. When I haven't done anything to deserve it." 

"I have no idea what you're--" Newt's hands balled into fists, and Hermann stepped back. _Why was he so angry?_

"I thought being your tutor would change that, you know? Like you'd get over whatever weird grudge you have against me and we could have a truce or something. Even though it's entirely not my fault--" 

"-- _Yes, it is,"_ Hermann cried. _To hell with decorum_. "You're so  _fucking_ good at this class, without even trying, and so infuriatingly smug about it. You come into class late, you don't read the  _bloody_ textbook, and I've been miserable trying to do a quarter as well as you have. So yes, it is your fault, _Newt_." Hermann couldn't help the rise of his voice, despite the looks from passerby. He avoided Newt's gaze, a stunning combination of anger and absolute exasperation. 

Finally, he spoke. "You're crazy, and that's a lot coming from me." Newt zipped up his coat, shaking his head. "See you in class." 

Hermann watched him go, breath heavy, and contemplated sitting at the curb and folding his head into his hands. He wanted to scream, but instead, he began the long walk home. 

_Great work, Hermann. You've done it again._

* * *

 

"Rough night, Hermann?"

Hermann winced, setting his things at his desk and turning to face Hansen. "I don't know what you mean." 

Hansen spared a quick glance to the door, and approached Hermann in the otherwise empty classroom. "Newt told me about your little . . . confrontation."

"Oh," Hermann managed, casting his eyes downward. Hansen sighed. 

"I was afraid of that. You two have very opposing personalities, as I'm sure you noticed. But he's your best option for getting through this class."

"Couldn't you tutor me?" Hermann asked. Hansen laughed. 

"As easy as that would make things, I've got my hands full. You're just going to have to learn to get along, I'm afraid."

"Okay," said Hermann, still unsure of how that could possibly happen. The door opened suddenly, and Newt entered with a sullen expression. 

"Good afternoon, Newt." Hansen said, returning to his desk. 

"Afternoon," Newt grumbled, sitting at his desk. Hermann followed suit, taking out his notes and glasses for a quick moment of review. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Newt, his forehead pressed to the desk, arms wrapped around his head. He almost,  _almost_ , felt a burst of pity at the sight. 

Slowly, more students flooded into the class, and when the bell rang Hansen stood. "Okay, class, today we're going to be doing some partner work. So get into groups of two and finish up the worksheet we started yesterday."

For an instant, Hermann was terrified, the thought of choosing partners being a constant source of anxiety for him since grade school. Because of his leg, he was always the last picked for team sports, and his perpetual shyness made for constant teacher intervention when it came to finding a group to work in. He was almost relieved when Hansen nodded his head toward Newt. At least the choice was no longer in his hands. 

Hermann stood, grabbing his notebook and approaching Newt's desk. "I guess we're supposed to work together."

Newt looked up blearily. "Okay, I guess. Where do you want to start?" 

Hermann slid into the empty desk next to him. "Question twelve was giving me some trouble." 

"Oh, that's easy. It's just the movement of sodium and potassium across the membrane. Real basic . . . Or not," Newt added, at the sight of Hermann's frown. 

"Could you explain it to me? Slowly?" 

"Sure, dude. No problem."

 


	5. good vibrations

"That's  _preposterous."_

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk like an old man?" Newt asked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Hermann scowled. 

"I don't see what that has to do with anything." 

"It's got everything to do with everything, dude. You're a cranky old man who refuses to listen to my theories." 

Hermann laughed, a deep, resonating bark that Newt found utterly delightful. "My sincerest apologies for not taking your  _dinosaur theory_ seriously."

"I'm telling you, Hermann," Newt began, digging a pretzel out of the bag sitting on Hermann's dining room table. "The dinosaurs were just a precursor. We're gonna get a second wave of those bastards someday, and it won't be pretty."

"I'll keep that in mind." Hermann snatched a pretzel, chewing as he flipped through the study guide Newt had been considerate enough (if not compelled) to put together. "I'm still stumped on protein folding, and the quiz is in two days."

"Alpha and beta shit? Those are easy, trust me, you'll get it," Newt assured him. Hermann rolled his eyes. 

"You say that about everything."

"And I'm right, aren't I?" Newt said, wiggling his eyebrows. "You've been doing great." 

In truth, Hermann had. He'd received a solid B on his retake, and aced every quiz since Newt began tutoring him. He could even be nudged into raising his hand on occasion, much to Hansen's surprise and delight.

The more time he spent with him, the more infuriating he found Newt to be. He listened to the most obnoxious music, wore the same rumpled pants three days in a row, refused to eat anything that didn't come out of a box. And yet, the more time he spent with him, the more okay all of that seemed to be. 

Hermann wondered what Newt thought of him, with his sweaters and rubber shoes and complete lack of hobbies that didn't involve a book, pencil and paper.

Were they friends? Hermann wondered that frequently. But he still couldn't be sure. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions, lest they be disproved. 

"How about we go over those tomorrow? You could come to my house after school and study, and I could show you Godzilla."

"Which one?" Newt's eyes brightened. 

"So you know there's more than one." 

"However  _old_  you think I am, Newton, I am aware of at least some aspects of pop culture." 

Newt chuckled. "You're something else, Hermann. And the first one, it's the best, after all." 

Hermann nodded. "Okay, that sounds--" 

"--Good evening." Hermann looked up, the color draining out of his face at the sight of the tall, lean man standing in the doorway. His hair, the same chestnut color as Hermann's, was combed straight and severe, despite the late night hour. His eyes, a silvery blue that had the tendency to reflect, shone in the dim light of the room. 

"Good evening, Father," Hermann said quietly.

"Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" His accent, apparent yet clear, ground through each syllable. Newt extended his hand. 

"Hi! I'm Newt. You're his dad, right?" He asked. Hermann winced. 

"Lars Gottlieb." They shook hands across the table as Hermann looked to Newt. If he was nervous, he certainly wasn't showing it. 

"Nice to meet you, man. Sorry if we were being loud, we're just getting finished." 

"Here," Hermann said quickly, "let me walk you to the door." Hermann stood, straightening his brace manually and Newt gathered his things. Lars watched them silently. 

"Thanks again, you know, for helping me," Hermann said once they reached the door. Newt, despite his tendency to speed through nearly everything, kept his pace with Hermann's. The gesture was one Hermann thought about often.  

"You don't have to thank me, dude. It's fun! I like it a lot."

"That's . . . that's great. I'm glad." 

"See you at school, then?" Newt asked. Hermann nodded. 

"Yes. See you." Hermann shut the door behind him, walking back to the table and collecting his books. 

"So that was your tutor," Lars said softly. Hermann averted his gaze. 

"Yes, it was." 

"He doesn't seem much like a tutor."

"Well, he's very smart, I assure you," Hermann muttered, slinging his back over his shoulder and starting for the door. Lars placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"It's very important you do well, Hermann." Hermann shook the hand away, and frowned.

"I know." 

* * *

"How was class?" Mako asked, between bites of her sandwich. Hermann stirred his soup absentmindedly. 

"Helpful," he replied. Mako giggled. 

"How interesting." 

"You're the one asking me about my classes. How's that for interesting?" Mako smiled slyly. 

"All right, then. How was your weekend?" Hermann blinked. How had his weekend been? He'd studied, argued over who had to mow the lawn with Bastien, sent a very terse email to his sister concerning whether or not she'd be coming home for spring break, and listened to a lecture from his father about how he was  _wasting_ his education while his mother watched on, silent. 

"Newton made me watch Godzilla."

He'd gone over to Newt's, too. 

"Really?" She asked, grinning. Hermann nodded solemnly. "Did you like it?" 

Hermann found himself shrugging. "I would've enjoyed it more if he'd managed to stop talking throughout the entire film."

Mako laughed. "You and him . . . You are friends now?"

Hermann stared into his soup. "I don't really make friends."

"But you and I are friends, are we not?" Hermann looked up, befuddled. 

"I suppose so, but--"

"--Then you have made a friend. Who says you cannot make more?" Hermann resumed stirring, ignoring the warmth climbing up his belly. 

"Thank you, Mako." 

"For what?" She asked curiously. 

"Everything."

 


	6. shake, rattle, and roll

“You got this, Herms.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Too bad, Hermie,” Newt smiled wickedly. “I repeat, you got this.”

Hermann set his bookbag on the desk, leaning his head atop it. Newt sighed, setting his bag down and approaching him.

“What have you got to be nervous about? We’ve been studying all week. You’re gonna be fine.”

Hermann groaned into the material of his bad. “I know, but--”

“No buts!” He looked around, making sure they were alone in the class before crouching down to Hermann’s eye level.

“Say it with me, my man. We’re going to own this bad boy.”

Hermann blinked. “I’ll do no such thing.”

Newt laughed as Hansen entered the room, carrying a stack of papers. “Ready for the test, boys?”

“Hell yeah we are! Oh, uh, sorry Mr Hansen. Heck.” Hansen smirked.

“Let’s hope your confidence matches your performance, Newton. Feeling all right, Hermann?” He asked, as a group of students trickled in.

Hermann sat up, self-conscious, as Newt returned to his seat. “Of course, Mr. Hansen. Never been better.”

“Good,” he said as the bell rang. “We’re going to start the day with the test--” The door swung open, as Chuck swaggered in. Hansen frowned.

“You’re late, Chuck.” Chuck laughed humorlessly.

“And what are you gonna do about it, old man?” Hansen’s jaw tightened.

“Sit down,” he said, defeated, as Chuck continued to laugh. Hermann shuffled in his seat uncomfortably.

“Anyway, let’s begin. Good luck, guys.” As he moved between the rows to pass out the tests, Hermann’s eyes lingered on Newt, who sent him a oversized grin and two thumbs up. Hermann rolled his eyes, and fought a small smile.

As the paper settled on his desk, he took a deep breath.

I’ve . . . got this.

1) What role do B-Cells play in the immune system?

They’re memory cells in the humoral response.  

Oh my god.

Hermann flipped through the test, scribbling in answers with a pencil that only shook slightly in his hand. Newt still rose within twenty minutes to turn it in (the bastard) but Hermann wasn’t far behind him, and stood within the first wave of students turning it in. As he sat, Newt raised his eyebrows. Hermann shrugged, and Newt pumped his fist.

As the final set of students brought up their tests to the front, Hansen stood. “Great job, everyone. That was a tough one. Come prepared tomorrow, we’re going to be doing a gel electrophoresis lab. It should be fun.”

Chuck scoffed audibly, and Hermann glared as the bell rang. He gathered his things, as Hansen approached the desk carrying his test.

“I had the chance to look it over, Hermann.” He said. Out of the corner of his eye, Hermann watched Newt rise, leaning against his desk as he waited. The gesture of it tugged at him.

“And?” Hermann asked.

“You should be proud of yourself. I’ll need to grade it officially, of course, but you’ve made quite a bit of progress.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hansen. I appreaciate it.”

“Maybe I’m not the one you should be thanking.” Hansen smiled. Hermann looked over at Newt and swallowed, picking up his things and meeting him at the door. 

They barely made it into the hallway before Newt exploded.

“Dude! Did you hear that? You’re a rockstar!”

“Hardly, Newton. I just did well on a test.”

“No, dude, you killed it. Come on, we gotta go celebrate after school.”

“What do you mean?” Hermann asked. Newt shrugged. 

"I dunno, what do you usually do to have fun?"

"Nothing," Hermann said immediately, then frowned at Newt's expression. "No, I mean, I don't really do much for fun. I like to read, I suppose." 

Newt stared. "That's unacceptable, man. Here, I'll pick you up after school, we'll go see a movie. Like a date," he said, laughing. Hermann felt his face grow hot. 

"All right, then. We'll see a movie." 

"It'll be fun, I promise. See you tonight." 

"Right, then . . . See you." Hermann smiled weakly as the shorter boy winked, departing down the hall. 

_Brilliant. '_

* * *

 

"So you are going on a date with Newton."

"No, god, Mako, it's not a date," Hermann said grumpily into the phone,  staring at the nearly identical ties sitting on his bed. One was maroon, the other dark red. 

There was a difference. Obviously. 

"Then what is it?"

"Two . . . friends. Spending time together. We do that a lot, don't we?" 

"But what are you doing?" She asked, with barely disguised glee. Hermann sighed, putting the phone on speaker and setting it down as he began to knot the maroon tie around his collar. 

"We're getting dinner, and seeing a film together. Just two friends  _hanging out._ " It was a phrase he didn't much like, but one that he found was used frequently by Newt. 

"That sounds like a date to me." 

Hermann sighed, pulling a brown sweater over his head. "Excellent." 

It wasn't a date, clearly. As he'd explained to Mako at least three times it was merely a social outing, celebratory in nature. If it weren't for his inability to drive, he would meet with Newt at the restaurant, and skip the "picking up" portion that Mako had smiled at dreamily. There was no reason to think it was anything out of the ordinary for the two of them. Newt had only jokingly referred to it as a date, so, obviously it was no such thing. End of story. 

As he dug through his dresser for the pair of green corduroys he only wore on special occasions, he wondered what a date was even like. At seventeen, he knew it was out of the ordinary to have never been on one at his age. But, even in the impossible scenario that someone did show interest in him, what could he do? He himself had never even desired such a thing. Dates were wrought with awkward conversations, overly intimate contact, and other things that made him itch. If Newton  _had_ asked him on a date, which he would never do anyway, Hermann knew exactly what he would say. 

 _"Hermann!_ Door for you." 

"Gotta go, Mako." Hermann picked up the phone, rolling his eyes at the sound of Mako's giggle. 

"Have fun, Hermann." He set the phone down, self consciously examining his appearance in the mirror before heading down the stairs. Bastien stood before the door, opened to reveal Newt in is leather jacket, jangling a pair of keys. 

"Ready to go?"


	7. a little less conversation

“That film was dreadful.”

“Come on, Herms! I thought you liked monster movies.”

“Just because I enjoyed Godzilla doesn’t mean I’m going to enjoy every movie with giant creatures.”

“You’re just annoyed the villain was a British dude.”

Hermann huffed, folding his arms over the seatbelt as Newt put the car into drive. “It’s a stereotype that is used by Hollywood entirely too much.”

Newt laughed, accelerating freely as he pulled out of the movie theater and merged into traffic. “You’re something else, Hermann.”

 _Something else_ , Hermann thought. _And what does that mean?_

“Thank you, nonetheless. I did enjoy it . . . somewhat.”

“See? I knew it. Wait until I get you to watch King Kong, you’re gonna think it’s amazing.”

“I’m sure.”

Much to his own dismay, Hermann realized the night had been his best since moving to America, and probably the last few years. Newt had picked him up in an ancient Jeep, during which they’d argued over whether or not it was safe to drive, an argument begrudgingly won by Newt as he was able to crank the radio and scream along the lyrics to “Somebody To Love,” drowning out Hermann’s complaints and speeding away.

After teaching Newt how to use chopsticks at a dreadful Chinese place on the other side of town, they barely made it in time for the movie, an ode to mayhem and destruction that, despite a number of reminders, Newt would not be silent for.

It had been ridiculous. But perfect.

“Did you forget how to get to my house?” Hermann asked, as Newt pulled into an empty parking lot a lot a few blocks from his home.

“Nah, dude, I remember. I just wanted to talk for awhile, you know? If that’s all right.”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Newt laughed, reclining his chair back and stretching his arms over his head. “Because it kinda feels like you hate me sometimes.”

“I assure you, Newton,” Hermann said, clumsily levering his chair back as well. “If I hated you, you would know.”

“Awesome. Hey, let’s play the question game. Do you know what that is?” Newt unbuckled his seatbelt, turning his body to face Hermann.

“I can assume.”

“Okay, cool. Wanna play?”

“Sure.”

“All right, first question. How old are you?”

Hermann snorted. “We’re in the same grade, Newton. I’m seventeen.”

“Hey, you could’ve skipped a grade for all I know. I did.”

“So you’re . . . fifteen?”

“Nope, sixteen. As of a few weeks ago. Okay, your turn.”

Still somewhat unsettled, Hermann thought for a moment. “All right, where were you born?”

“Berlin.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope, totally true. What, you weren’t born there too, were you?”

“In Garmisch-Partenkirchen, but I lived in Berlin all my life. Until we moved, of course.”

“No shit!” Newt leaned up on his elbows, and Hermann resisted the urge to turn to him. “Well, that answered my next question, I was gonna ask where you moved from. Hmm. Favorite movie?”

“Star Trek II, the Wrath of Khan.”

Newt grinned. “I totally knew you were a Trekkie. Did you like the reboots?”

“My turn,” Hermann said, smiling. Newt rolled his eyes.

“Fine, Mr. Rules. Ask your question.”

“Favorite movie?”

Newt chuckled. “I see what you did there. That’s a tough one. Probably Spirited Away.”

Hermann blinked. “Really? I would’ve figured it be Godzilla.”

“It’s a close second,” said Newt. “But I dunno, I just really liked it a lot. Okay, _sprechen sie Deutsch?_ ”

_“Ihr akzent ist schrecklich.”_

Newt laughed explosively. “That answers my question. And yeah, I’m a little rusty, my uncle isn’t around to teach me anymore.”

“Did he move?” Hermann asked, knowing the answer was likely far less innocent.

“No, he, uh, died last year.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermann said quietly. Newt shrugged.

“It’s fine, man. It was just, you know, pretty sad. It’s just me and my dad now.”

“Your mother isn’t around, either?” Hermann asked. Newt shook his head.

“She walked out on us when I was a kid. The whole situation with her and my dad was . . . messy. They were each cheating when they got together, and I was, um, the product of that.”

Hermann unbuckled his seatbelt, turning to look Newt in the eyes. “You aren’t a product of anything, Newton. You’re a human being. It’s unfortunate your mother did that to you, you deserve so much better.”

“Geez, Hermann,” Newt said, settling back into the seat. “Thanks, dude. That’s like, the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“I’m just being honest, no need to thank me.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to swallow that one. Your turn.”

“Hmmm. What’s your career path?”

“Is that the grandpa way of asking me what I want to be when I grow up?”

“I suppose so,” Hermann smirked.

“Okay, then. I wanna be a biologist.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“It’s kinda my thing. How about you?”

“A mathematician, mostly. I like physics and engineering as well, but mostly mathematics.”

“Yeah, Mako mentioned you’re super good at math.”

“You know Mako?” Hermann asked, incredulous. Newt nodded.

“Yeah, she’s the best. We have Ancient Civ together, she saved me from getting an F first semester.”

“She’s remarkable. You were asking her about me?”

Newt blushed. “Uh, yeah, a little. Back when we like detested each other. I asked her what your deal was.”

Hermann raised an eyebrow. “And what did she say?”

“That you’re sorta . . . grumpy. But that you’re a good guy and I just needed to be patient. I’m glad I was.”

A comfortable sort of silence settled over them, as Hermann sat back in his seat. “I’m glad you were, too.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, then,” Newt said, and Hermann could hear his smile between the words. “Oh shit, dude, it’s almost midnight. What’s your curfew?”

“Half an hour ago.”

“Fuck! It’s okay, I’ll say it’s all my--”

“--Don’t worry, Bastien’s likely the only one still up, anyway. He’d lie for me.”

“Damn, Herms, I didn’t peg you as a curfew-breaker,” Newt giggled, adjusting his seat back to its normal position and putting the car in drive. Regretfully, Hermann did the same, and they drove the last few blocks to his house.

Hermann opened the door, climbing out. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, then?” Newt asked.

Hermann nodded. “See you, and . . . Thank you, for tonight. It was fun.”

“I told you,” Newt grinned, “I give my dates the special treatment.”

As he stepped into the driveway, his brace clicked audibly, and he winced. Newt frowned, putting the car into reverse as he began to back out.

“You ever thought about using a cane?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> precious nerds


	8. why must i be

_“I do not want Newt in here much longer,” his uncle wheezed, blending German and English dizzily. Newt held back his tears, as his father placed an experimental hand on his shoulder. Newt recoiled._

_Jacob Geiszler was a lonely, distant man. Affection fit in nowhere, and was as alien to Newt as the characters he adored._

_“He wants to see you, Illya.” His father’s words slipped from his lips as if expelled from a vacuum._

_“I want to see you,” Newt echoed. Illya smiled clumsily, as if he’d forgotten how._

_“Neffe. Your father will take good care of you when I am gone.”_

_“Don’t say that,” Newt spluttered, tears leaking from his eyes as he scrambled to wipe them away. Illya chuckled._

_“It is unfortunate I will not get to see you grow. Be strong, for you and your father’s sake.”_

_“But--” The machines beeped erratically, as his uncle’s eyes rolled back into his skull. His father hurried him out of the room as nurses and doctors breezed past, slamming the door in their wake. Newt leaned against the wall, sinking to his knees and sobbing._

_“Newt?”_

_The door opened, Jacob Geiszler swaying out weakly. Newt looked up._

_“Dad?”_

_Jacob sighed, running a hand through his son’s hair._

_“It’s just us now.”_

* * *

The alarm buzzed, and Newt bolted upright, shaking. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the phantom touch of his father disappear.

He could still hear his uncle’s voice, clear as day.

Newt looked at the clock, snapping out of bed at the display. 7:45.

He walked to the desk, rifling through papers, notebooks, and novels to find the small orange bottles. He cracked one open, palming the small white pill and dry swallowing. He reached for the other bottle, his hand shaking at the realization it was empty.

_Shit._

* * *

“Hello, Mr. Gottlieb. May I call you Hermann?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“You may call me Aleksis, or Mr. Kaidanovsky, if you prefer.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kaidanovsky.”

Hermann sat across from the bear of a man, in a small office papered with motivational posters, all in Russian. The walls were painted a calming green, something he supposed was by design.

“Before we begin, I’m curious to know why you chose to see me. Initially, you refused to see a counselor, isn’t that right?”

Hermann gulped. “Yes, it is.”

“What changed your mind?” The man smiled, and Hermann shifted in his seat.

“I have a few friends that can be very persuasive.”

“Why did they want you to come see me?” Kaidanovsky asked. Hermann frowned.

“They were . . . concerned about me.”

“But you are not concerned about yourself.” It didn’t seem like a question, but Hermann nodded nonetheless.

“No, I’m not.”

“Do you think that they are right? That you need some form of help?” Hermann scowled.

“I don’t need any help.”

Kaidanovsky laughed, a big booming sound that Hermann was surprised didn’t shake the pictures off the walls. “That is what they all say. I assure you, Hermann, you made the right choice coming here.”

_I’m not so sure._

“Let’s talk about your friends. Why do they think you should see me?”

“They think I need someone to talk to. Which is ridiculous.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I can talk to them.”

Kaidanovsky chuckled. “Maybe they are worried they are not enough. People need support systems, much more than a few friends. What about your family?”

Hermann blinked. “I have one.”

There was that booming laugh again. “Yes, yes. But tell me about them.”

“I have a father, a mother, a sister, and two brothers. My younger brother still lives with us.”

Kaidanovsky picked up a folder from his desk, paging through it. “I see you moved here from Germany. Was that a difficult transition?”

“No.”

“Why is that?”

“Nothing changed, really.”

“Did you leave behind any friends? Teachers you liked?”

“No, none.”

“So your friends here, they are very important to you.”

Hermann opened his mouth to speak, to say the first word that appeared in his head. But he paused, as if to make sure it was what he really wanted to say.

“Yes.”

“And it was important for you to listen to what they told you. Because you value them.”

“Yes.”

“Interesting, Hermann, very interesting. Do you feel this way toward your family?”

Hermann hesitated. “Yes, I do.”

Kaidanovsky looked at him, the smiling eyes turning into searchlights. “Are you sure about this?”

“Completely.” Hermann hoped his own eyes wouldn’t betray him. Kaidanovsky sighed, placing the folder back at the top of the file.

“Well, Hermann, I think this has been a very productive first session, and I hope you come back to speak with me again. Until then, think about what you’d like to talk about next time.”

_My father has impossible expectations of me._

_My mother pretends I don’t exist._

_I can’t talk to the people I care about the most._

“Thank you, sir.”

 

 


	9. a teenager in love

“How was the counselor?”

“Oh, fine.”

Mako raised her eyebrow, making a face Hermann was all too familiar with. “Tell me about it.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Mako,”  He said dismissively, pulling his textbooks from his locker and tucking them into his bookbag. “He asked me about my friends, my family. How I was adjusting. Whatever counselors ask.”

“And what did you tell him?”

Hermann sighed. “Must you know?” He asked, turning to her. Mako leaned against the adjacent locker casually, smirking.

“I am very curious what you had to say about me.”

Hermann narrowed his eyes. “All right, then. I told him I knew a very manipulative girl who would be failing differential equations if it weren’t for my help.”

She punched him in the arm, playfully. “That would be half correct.”

Hermann laughed, closing the locker. “I said I had a few friends who were important to me. That’s all.”

Mako grinned. “Sweet. What about your family?” She asked, somewhat softer. Hermann stiffened.

“I told him we got along fine.”

Mako sighed. “Okay.”

“You don’t believe me.”

Mako shook her head. “That’s why I want you to talk to him, because you can’t talk to me.”

Hermann’s eyes widened. “No, Mako, that’s not--”

She held up a hand, smiling sadly. “It’s okay. You should go, you’re going to miss your bus.”

Hermann looked down at his watch, cursing mildly. “Right. I’ll talk to you later, Mako. I mean that.” He turned to leave, his memory lingering on the image of her face, and the smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Wait,” he said, turning back around. “Was Newton in Civilizations today?”

Mako shook her head. “No, why?”

Hermann sighed. “He’s been gone for two days in a row. We were supposed to study after school today.”

“Try calling him?” Mako suggested. “He’s late, but never absent.”  

“I know, and I will. Thank you.” Hermann walked to the door, opening it and stepping out into the cold snap of lingering winter. He pulled out his phone as he approached his bus, dialing Newt’s number.

_“Hey, this is Newt. Leave a message at the tone, or the beep, whatever. Ha.”_

Hermann was caught between affection for the ridiculous boy and concern for his complete lack of communication. Newt sent him at least two dozen texts a day, generally expecting no response, rattling off about how boring his classes were or how silly Hermann looked wearing trousers in a high school.

He watched the doors of the bus close and, instead of rushing to meet them, stepped back.

Newt lived only a few blocks from school, anyway.

* * *

 

Hermann raised his fist to knock on the door, pausing at the sound of a small click.

“Hello?”

The door swung open, revealing a grizzled man in glasses and a rumpled gray button-up. His eyes, the same sea-green color of Newt’s, were bleary and tired.

“I’m Hermann, Newton’s--”

“Yes, you’re the boy he tutors. I’m his father, Jacob.”

“Good to meet you, Mr. Geiszler.”

He’d been over to Newt’s before, but his father had always either been out or asleep. As he reached out to shake the man’s hand, Hermann wondered how much Newt took after him. The inky black hair, always ruffled and mussed, seemed to be consistent, as well as the eyes and glasses. Hermann let his mind wander for a moment to wonder where Newt’s freckles came from, or his borderline impish height. He felt another pang of anger towards the mother who never bothered to stay.

“Is Newton all right? He wasn’t at school today, or yesterday. He isn’t, um, answering my calls, either,” Hermann added, at Geiszler’s confused expression.

“Yes, he’s home. He’s been in his room.”

Hermann raised an eyebrow. “You’ve just let him stay there?” He asked. Something passed over Geiszler’s face.

“I try not to bother him during one of his . . . “ He trailed off, dazed. Hermann scowled.

“Will you let me see him? Please?” Geiszler stepped out of the way, gesturing toward the staircase. Hermann blustered past him, climbing the stairs and coming into the hallway.

“Newton?” He stopped in front of a door covered by large movie poster, covered in big characters and bold print scrawled in Japanese.

“Herms, is that you?” The voice was thin, and wavering. Hermann felt something catch in his throat.

“I told you not to call me that. And for god’s sake, open the door.”

He heard a shuffling of feet, followed by a creak as the door opened.

 _“Scheiße.”_ Hermann murmured. Newt smiled crookedly.

_“Wie geht's?”_

“You look awful.”

“At least I’m not wearing a sweater-vest.”

Hermann knew Newt was, by design, a disheveled testament to lack of sleep and high caffeine consumption. But this was a new creature entirely.

His shirt, a color that Hermann figured was once black but had now faded to charcoal gray, was fraying at the collar and sleeves. Otherwise, he wore a single, matchless sock and a pair of red striped boxers. His hair’s usual frenzy was replaced by no madness whatsoever, patted down so severely that Hermann barely recognized it. His glasses lay askew on the bed in the completely disordered room, giving no shield to eyes rimmed with red.

Hermann stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with an angry _crack_. “How dare you berate me into seeing a counselor, tell me I’ve got problems opening up, then shut yourself up like this and refuse to tell me what’s going on.”

Newt stumbled back, eyes wide. “Dude, what the hell?”

Hermann’s lip curled. “Look at yourself!” He cried. Newt threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

“What do you want from me, man?”

_For you to be okay, you twat._

“For you to tell me what’s wrong.”

Newt sighed, rolling onto the bed and kicking up his feet.

“Fine, but you’re not going to like me after I do.”

“Try me.”


	10. reconsider, baby

“Try me.”

Hermann resisted the urge to grab whatever was nearest to him and throw it. “Short of killing someone, Newton, there’s nothing you could possibly say to me that would diminish my . . . feelings toward you. And even if you had killed someone, I’d be open to whatever justification you could offer.”

Newt laughed, smiling in a way that almost brightened his face. Almost.

“You sure, dude? I guess it’s not as bad as murder, but it’s not exactly a walk in the park.”

“Will you just bloody tell me?” His leg aching from the walk to Newt’s house, Hermann pulled the desk chair in front of the bed and sat.

Newt sighed heavily, and Hermann watched as his eyes flitted about the room, seeming to look everywhere except directly at him. His hands twitched, and Hermann realized he had never seen Newt look so nervous. Neurotic and manic, sure, but never anxious. Whatever he was going to tell him clearly filled Newt with a kind of fear he had rarely experienced.

Suddenly guilty, and before he could doubt himself any further, he reached out, closing a hand around Newt’s. He immediately went still, looking to Hermann with a confused expression.

“Relax, Newton. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

Slowly and deliberately, Newt squeezed Hermann’s hand. “It’s all right, I’m good. I just . . . don’t talk about it very often. It’s kinda hard for me.”

“That’s okay.” Hermann drew back, leaning into the chair. Newt bit his lip to keep from looking disappointed at the lack of contact.

Newt inhaled, letting out the breath shakily. “I have bipolar disorder.”

Hermann blinked. “That’s it?” Newt sat up, his eyes blazing.

“Really, man? I tell you I’m fucking mentally ill and all you can say is--”

“--No, no, you idiot. That’s not what I meant,” Hermann said quickly, waving a hand dismissively. “How could you possibly think I wouldn’t like you anymore because you have an illness? Do you truly think I’m that shallow?”

Newt gaped. “No, of course not, I just . . . Shit. Yeah, maybe. It’s just a lot to handle, you know?” Hermann nodded.

“Yes, I can understand that,” said Hermann quietly.

“My mom had it, I guess. That’s what my dad told me. He said she couldn’t, uh, handle being a mom and didn’t want to get help. So she just left. Dad says I was fine until my uncle died, and, um, I don’t really remember that year very much.”

His hands had started to shake again, and Hermann reached out, laying his over Newt’s. Newt exhaled in relief.

“Thanks. It’s really, um, it’s all kind of a blur. I started having episodes. Whole weeks where I’d barely sleep, others where I couldn’t get out of bed. My dad had me admitted to the psych ward, finally, and I, uh, got medication and stuff. It’s a lot better now, a lot less extreme. But two days ago I ran out of my medication.”

“You what?” Hermann asked, incredulously. Newt smiled sheepishly.

“I forgot to get a refill on it. My dad ran to the pharmacy, but they couldn’t fill it for another day. Missing taking my meds, even for a day . . . it’s bad. It’s why I wasn’t at school.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Hermann demanded. “I could’ve helped. Somehow.”

“I didn’t want to worry you! “ He cried, pulling back. “My mom left because she couldn’t handle it, and she was _my mother_. My dad’s barely sentient, he might as well have gone with her. How was I supposed to know you’d stick around?”

“Because you know me. Because if anyone knows what it’s like to be left alone, it’s me.”

“Oh, Herms,” Newt breathed. Hermann swallowed, completely forgetting how much he utterly hated that nickname.

“Well, um,” he began, “I’m glad we’ve cleared the air. I know what you’re dealing with, and you know that it makes no difference to me.”

Newt nodded. “Yeah, that’s good.” He settled back into the bed, folding his arms over his head. “Did you end up seeing the counselor?” He asked. Hermann paled.

“Yes. And I lied to him,” he added, before Newt could speak.

“You lied?”

“Yes. I told him everything was right with my family, and it’s not. Not at all.” Hermann realized his voice was trembling, and stopped himself from continuing. Newt sat up, frowning.

“It’s your dad, right? Mostly?” He asked. Hermann nodded.

“He’s very . . . uptight. He has many expectations for me. It doesn’t matter if those expectations aren’t in my interest.”

That was an understatement, Newt could tell. The tall, imposing man, despite his resemblance physically to Hermann, seemed about as different as a parent could be from their child. He seemed to be what Newt had originally thought Hermann to be; a cold, close-minded dick. He wondered how Hermann could have possibly become what he was. Kind.

Grumpy, but kind.

“What about your mom?”

“She might as well not be there.”

Newt laughed, causing Hermann to stiffen. “Look at us. We’re a complete fucking mess.”

Hermann relaxed, chuckling in spite of himself. “I guess we are.”

Newt looked thoughtful for a moment, climbing up from the bed and positioning himself directly in front of Hermann.

“I’m gonna do something, okay? Promise you won’t freak out.”

Hermann’s eyes widened. “What do you--” Newt shushed him, and Hermann sat back in shocked silence.

Newt leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the taller’ boy’s shoulders. He stood slowly, bringing Hermann up with him.

“You’re hugging me,” Hermann mumbled. Newt nodded into his shoulder.

“Yep. I think we both deserve it.”

“Okay.”

They stayed like that for a moment, quiet, until Newt pulled them apart.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Newt looked up at him, smiling serenely. The red around his eyes had faded to faint irritation, and Hermann felt something in his chest tug.

He tipped his head down, breathing shallowly. Newt’s cocked his head to the side, curious, until their noses nearly touched.

Hermann stumbled back, nearly tipping the chair onto the floor. “I’ll, ah, see you t-tomorrow, then?” He stuttered. Newt nodded, swallowing.

“Sure, yeah . . . “ He trailed off, as Hermann hobbled over the chair and out of the room.

“See you tomorrow.”

 

 


	11. love me tender

“Start from the beginning.”

“Come on, Tendo, it’s not that easy.”

“Well, if you want my help, you’re going to have to start from the beginning of your beautiful gay love story.”

Newt scowled, opening his sociology textbook with a little more force than necessary. Tendo had been his best friend since elementary school, starting poetically when both were sent to the principal’s office on separate offenses relating to a certain vocabulary test and various misspellings that were deemed “vastly inappropriate for school.” But he still knew the very best ways to get on his nerves.

“It’s not a love story. It’s a . . . “ _Jesus Christ, what is it?_

“So far,” Tendo began, chewing loudly on a bagel he had somehow managed to sneak into the library, “all I’m aware of is that you two are study buddies. You’ve been mum on just about everything else. Which hurts me, Newt, it really does.” He frowned in mock hurt, and Newt laughed.

“Fine, fine. We’ve really gotten to know each other, you know? He’s crazy smart, real loyal, real caring. I mean, he’s a total grump, but once you get past that he’s just awesome.”

Tendo grinned. “Sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

“Come on, dude, he’s my friend. I don’t have a crush on him.”

“Are you attracted to him? He’s kind of cute, in a dorky, nerdy kind of way.”

 _No, he’s not,_ Newt thought. He thought of Hermann’s eyes, big and brown, somehow able to both narrow in frustration and crinkle as he laughed. He thought of his hair, soft and downy, his shoulders, broad and strong even under those awful sweaters. And his smile, tight-lipped and beautiful.

_He’s gorgeous._

_Shit._

“Well, I mean, of course I am. How could I not be?” Newt said quietly. Tendo’s eyes widened.

“You totally do! Oh my god, Newt, you have a crush on Hermann-fucking-Gottlieb.”

Newt leaned back in his chair, breath whistling between his teeth. “I guess I do. I almost kissed him, I think.”

Tendo giggled. “You did what?”

“Well, it was kind of mutual. Sort of. He was in my room, and--”

Tendo leaned forward eagerly. “--Do go on.”

Newt rolled his eyes. “Nothing like that. Remember last week, during my . . . episode?”

Tendo nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“Hermann came to my house, he was worried about me.” Tendo softened.

“That’s really sweet, man.”

“I know. He made me feel a lot better. I hugged him and it just . . . happened. Almost. He kind of freaked out and bolted. I’ve barely talked to him since.”

Tendo sighed. “So that’s why you’re in denial. You think he doesn’t like you back.”

“I can’t fuck up our friendship. It’d ruin me.”

“Okay, I think I see the problem. But, seriously, dude, why wouldn’t he like you back?

_Because he’s Hermann-fucking-Gottlieb. Because I’m short and weird and manic and depressive and can’t keep it together to save my life._

Newt didn’t realize he’d said the words aloud until Tendo sat back in his seat, and frowned. “Come on, Newt. If Hermann’s the guy you say he is, and I trust you’re right about that, he’d love all that stuff about you, wouldn’t he?”

Newt inhaled. “Maybe. But he’s probably straight, anyway.”

Tendo snorted. “Ah, yes, the classic excuse.”

“He’s pretty close with Mako, I bet he likes her.”

“Did he tell you that?”

Newt paused, then shook his head. “No, he’s never talked about girls to me.”

Tendo smiled wickedly. “Then it looks like you’ve got a shot, my man.”

Newt bit his lip. And what if Hermann did like him back? What would they do about it? Dating had never been Newt’s strong point, and he had to imagine it wasn’t exactly Hermann’s, either. And what if things didn’t work out? Newt didn’t know what he would do if he had to ignore Hermann after a bad break-up, pretend each other didn’t exist to get over the pain.

But what if nothing happened? He’d just keep pining for him, with no solution in sight?

Could they make it work?

“I don’t know what to do, Tendo. I’m clueless.”

“I hate to say it, but you need to tell him. Not immediately,” he added, at Newt’s horrified expression. “But test the waters first. Talk to him. The worst thing that could happen is him shutting you down.”

 _“Exactly,”_ Newt said in exasperation. Tendo chuckled.

“Yeah, and it’d be awkward for a while, but you’d be able to move on, right?”

“I guess you’re right. Thanks, bud.” Newt said. Tendo shrugged, grinning.

“It’s what I do.”

* * *

“I don’t know what to do, Mako.”

“Just tell him how you feel.”

Hermann snorted, stretching his feet out in the grass that surrounded the baseball field and adjusting his head where it lay atop his bookbag. “That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Mako splayed her arms out next to him. “Do you have a better idea?”

Hermann frowned. Did he? Not currently. All he knew was that he and Newt had kissed. Almost. Something in both of them had bubbled to the surface and, in a brief moment, both of them almost acted upon it.

And what if they had?

“No, I don’t.”

“He likes you back, you know.”

Hermann turned on his side, eyes wide. “Did he tell you that?”

Mako giggled. “He doesn’t need to. He looks at you like you are the only thing he sees.”

Hermann felt something tug inside his chest, then melt into butterflies. “Why would he do that?”

“Hermann,” Mako began, sitting up. “You do not see yourself the way he does.” Hermann followed suit, looking at her curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“You are smart, you make him laugh. You’re good-looking, too,” She added, with a small smile. Hermann blinked.

He could accept that he was intelligent. But that was something to be proud of, to use. Not to be admired. He did make Newt laugh, but so did plenty of other people. And how could he be good-looking?

He ran a hand through his hair, chopped at the sides with kitchen shears by his mother. His jaw was clunky and his ears were big and his lips were ridiculous and how could Newton possibly find him attractive. _Newton_ , with his beautiful eyes and perfect smile and messy hair, hair that Hermann couldn’t help but imagine his fingers running through.

_ Mein Gott. _

“Even if any of that was true, he’d never be interested in me,” Hermann said quietly. Mako reached out, planting a firm hand on his shoulder.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

 

 


	12. the wonder of you

“You know, I really think you’re getting the hang of this whole biology thing, Herms.”

“Really?” Hermann asked. Newt nodded from across his dining room table.

“Yeah, dude. You killed that last lab.” Hermann smiled. He had done well on that lab. And gel electrophoresis was no easy task.

“Well, it was in no small part due to you, Newton.”

Newt smirked. “Who knows, man. With a little more time, you might not need me anymore.”

Hermann blinked. “What makes you say that?”

Newt, upon realizing the meaning of what he’d just said, turned pink at the ears. “No, not like that. I mean just tutoring. I’d be . . . “ He trailed off, averting Hermann’s gaze.

“You’d be what?”

Newt closed his book quietly. “. . . sad and stuff. You know, if you didn’t need me anymore. Like as a friend.”

 _A friend,_ Hermann echoed. _That’s all I’ll ever be to you, isn’t it?_

“Newton, I--”

“--Shit, okay, I’m fucking this up pretty badly, aren’t I?” Newt said.

“A little bit, yes.”

“You’re just really important to me. Like, _really important_. You helped me a lot. And I can’t thank you enough for that.”

Hermann felt winded, as if all of his breath had escaped in one single exhale. “You’re welcome.”

“Great. Cool. Okay. Wait, are you okay?” He added, after a pause. Hermann scowled.

“Fine.”

“No, no. You’re doing that British thing where you act like everything’s great but inside it’s not. Which is weird because you’re German.”

Hermann bit back a laugh. “I mean it, Newton, I’m fine.”

Newt frowned, his eyes narrowing then slowly going wide. “Is this about . . . what happened. Almost, uh, happened. In my room the other day?”

Hermann opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, brows furrowed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“ _What_ doesn’t matter?”

Hermann’s hands balled into fists on the table. He stood, raking one into his hair. “It would make no difference to you, apart from ruining our friendship. So please, Newton, drop it.”

Newt paled, pulling himself to his feet. “Is this going where I think it’s going?”

Hermann squinted. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Newt felt his heart begin to pound inside his chest. “It’s not that hard to figure out, man,” he squeaked. “I mean, at this point, what could ruin our friendship? Murder’s out, you know I’d help you hide the body. Same with like any other crime. You just got here, so it’s not like you’re moving or anything. So that only leaves like one other thing.” As he spoke, he slowly came around the corner of the table, tipping up his chin at the slightest of angles to look Hermann in the eyes.

“And that would be?” He breathed. Newt’s face flushed pink.

“I don’t wanna say it.”

Hermann rolled his eyes, hovering above Newt’s lips for an instant before meeting them in a kiss. He watched as Newt’s eyes fluttered closed, remembering at the very last second that it was really something he should be doing, too.

“Shit, Herms,” Newt gasped as they pulled apart. “That’s a relief.”

“As far as kissing goes, it was nothing special.”

Newt grinned. “That’s not what I meant. And kissing you is plenty special.”

Hermann felt his cheeks go red. “Then what did you mean?”

“I never thought this would ever happen. Ever. That you would ever be into me.”

Hermann scoffed, lowering himself back into the chair. “The opposite is true, be sure of it. The fact that you’re into me is astounding.”

Newt laughed, moving to sit on the edge of the table. “We’re both idiots, then.”

“That’s at least half true.”

Newt swatted at him playfully. “So,” he said. “What do we do?”

Hermann raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“So we did it. We like each other. We kissed and didn’t like break each other’s teeth or anything. What do we do now?”

“Well, if you’re looking for some kind of a hook-up you’ve come to the wrong place.”

Newt giggled. “Oh my god, say _hook-up_ again.”

Hermann sighed. “This is what I’ve chosen for myself. Fantastic.”

Newt smiled, nudging his face to Hermann’s and bringing their lips together. “I can do that whenever I want now.”

“Don’t make assumptions. For all you know I could be a prude.”

Newt wiggled his eyebrows. “For some reason I don’t think that’s true.”

Hermann groaned. “So we’re dating, then? In a relationship? You and I?”

Newt nodded enthusiastically. “Yep. If that’s all right with you, I’m done stalling.”

“Stalling?” Hermann chuckled. “That’s what you’ve been doing all this time?”

“Of course it is.”

“Our friendship was merely a ploy to get in my pants?”

“Geez, let me buy you dinner first.”

“Somehow,” Hermann said. “This is exactly what I was expecting.”

“Can I, though?”

Hermann looked up. “Excuse me?”

“Buy you dinner. Not like that,” Newt added, at Hermann’s raised eyebrow. “Like, take you out on a date. A real date. Where we both know it’s a date.”

“Stop saying date.”

“Fine. A boyfriend-outing. I can call you that, right? My boyfriend?”

Hermann was silent for a moment, then looked up.

_I think I like the sound of that._

 

 


End file.
